


Half-Vacant

by letitout



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series), Fantasy High
Genre: Angst, M/M, mentions of alcohol / underage drinking, very cliched
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 07:01:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letitout/pseuds/letitout
Summary: Fabian only likes Riz when he's drunk. Riz lacks the self-respect to say no to him.
Relationships: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster
Comments: 18
Kudos: 234





	Half-Vacant

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think my first fic on here would be a cliched, angst ridden Fabriz one-shot yet here we are.

Riz hates this. And he loves it. And clearly, he lacks the self-respect to put an end to any of it. 

Fabian pulls at Riz’s shirt with one hand and grasps his thigh with the other, and Riz momentarily forgets why this is a bad idea. When Fabian touches him like this, when Fabian kisses him with so much force, kisses him with such earnest (it’s desperation, really, but these ‘sessions’ have turned Riz into a master of compartmentalisation), all apprehension melts away. Each touch feels so magnified. Riz doesn’t know which he likes more- when Fabian’s hands work their way to his inner thighs or when they cradle his lower back. It doesn’t matter which, really, when each movement of Fabian’s fingers has Riz arching his back, closing any semblance of distance they had left between them. 

Reality, of course, can’t be forgotten for too long. It demands to be heard, and reality is currently screaming about the taste of Fabian’s mouth. Riz doesn’t drink, he can’t pinpoint what exactly it is that he’s tasting, but the sourness of alcohol hits him like a punch to the stomach. It grounds him for just long enough for Riz to gather a shred of self-restraint, which he uses to push Fabian away. 

Fabian blinks, his eye glazed over and his smile hazy. Even like this, Riz thinks he’s beautiful. It is not a thought Riz is proud of. This should be a turn-off. Fabian is half-vacant. 

“What’s wrong, Riz?” Fabian slurs. Fabian only says his name when he’s drunk enough. 

This has become routine. Fabian invites Riz to his house, and the evenings always start off innocently enough. Sometimes they’ll catch up on homework together, or Fabian will find a way to show off the luxuries he adorns his life with, or he’ll humour Riz and they’ll throw a football back and forth. And then, like clockwork, Fabian will put out a bottle of whatever he’s found stashed away in the house. It’s a recipe for disaster, really, a teenager living in a house full of badly hidden bottles of alcohol. _ My mother’s, _ Fabian says, with a grin both triumphant and tired, _ she doesn’t even remember where she hid them _ . Riz will watch Fabian drink. Fabian, who always promises that he’ll _ go easy this time _. Riz and Fabian clearly have opposing definitions of going easy. 

And then, when Fabian is suitably drunk enough, he’ll lead Riz to his bed. Riz remembers the first time it happened. He remembers the confusion, he remembers the feeling of Fabian’s sheets underneath him. How his heart pounded in his chest with such force that he thought it might just burst out. Fabian had climbed onto the bed beside him, and cupped Riz’s face with both hands, lifting it gently to meet his own. Riz had panicked, pulled back slightly. Fabian had laughed, _ what’s wrong, The Ball? You don’t want this? _And of course, Riz wanted it- wanted it more than he had possibly wanted anything- and then Fabian was kissing him. And by monday, Fabian had forgotten. 

Riz wants to hate Fabian. He wants to scream at him. _ Surely you remember something. I didn’t start this. You did. You started this. _But he doesn’t. He smiles in silence as Fabian complains to anyone that will listen about the killer hangover he has. Riz smiles when Fabian laughs and tells Riz that he doesn’t even remember him leaving, and to crash at his place if Riz needs to, they have plenty of beds to spare. There’s not a single hint of recognition. Fabian isn’t hiding anything, Riz has come to learn. He genuinely doesn’t know what he’s done. Riz isn’t going to tell him. He can’t tell him. They’re both playing a stupid game at this point, and Riz isn’t going to lose. He has far, far too much to lose. 

So Riz looks at Fabian, and his tousled hair, and his flushed cheeks and dilated pupils and tells him that nothing is wrong. Fabian pulls him back, even closer, and there are those hands again- on his chest, in his hair, mouth on his. 

This is the last time, Riz tells himself. He won’t come over next time Fabian invites him. The lie is so sweet and comforting that Riz is almost convinced that it’s true. 

-

Monday rolls around, the way it always does, and Riz sits in the Aguefort canteen with Adaine and Fig, waiting for the others to arrive. Adaine has three different spell books spread out in front of her, diligently cross-referencing them, while Fig describes the gig she has played on Saturday. Adaine occasionally makes noises of interest, but Riz can tell that her mind isn’t really on the story. He wishes he could lose himself in something the way Adaine manages to lose herself in studying. Instead, he’s stuck in a purgatory of trying to push away every thought about Fabian while simultaneously wondering where the hell Fabian is and what’s taking him so long. Images keep flashing through his mind- the ghost of Fabian’s hand on his neck, how warm Fabian always feels, how his tongue- 

“The food here is disgusting,” A tray clatters down in front of Riz and he jolts. Fabian stands above him. His hair is slicked back and his letterman jacket is perfectly pressed. Every trace of who he had been on Saturday has been washed away. 

Fabian slides into the seat next to Riz. There’s a painful centimetre of distance between them. Riz has fucked up. This is not how best friends should act around each other. Riz should be at ease. He should not be thinking about closing the distance between their thighs. Riz coughs and stares down at his own plate of food, untouched. Fabian jabs a fork disapprovingly at his own lunch. 

“Even _ Gilear _made food better than this slop,” Fabian says, and Riz wonders what he sees in Fabian. Perhaps it’s that Riz has never been popular, and Fabian seems to be born into a life of glory and respect. Maybe, at first, Riz had hoped that a little bit of that would rub off on himself. He just wanted someone to want him there. Maybe it’s that Fabian sees him. 

“If you’re going to complain, could you do it somewhere else? I’m trying to work here,” Adaine says, without looking up. 

“What about Fig? I’m not the only one talking here,” Fabian complains. Riz hadn’t even noticed that Fig hadn’t stopped recounting her story. She had been talking for so long without pause that she had simply become background noise. Fig shoots Fabian a glare, but doesn’t stop. 

“Well, she’s not insulting our vice principle because of some rich kid bullshit, so go figure,” Adaine says, and finally looks up. She looks tired, Riz notices. He wonders how long she’s been studying for. Adaine is sometimes like a machine. She’ll go and she’ll go and she’ll go until she runs out of oil. Riz is not a stranger to burnout, and he can feel Adaine getting dangerously close. 

“Hey, Adaine, do you want to study together this saturday? I can go over your notes with you if you want,” Riz pipes up. Adaine gives him a grateful smile. 

“Thanks, Riz, that would actually be pretty helpful,” Adaine says. 

“I thought we had plans this saturday, The Ball?” Fabian interjects. Riz feels his stomach drop. Hanging out with Adaine might be just what he needed to break the cycle of Fabian. 

“Uh, yeah, I just think, uh, maybe I could. I thought Adaine could use the help more, since she has a big test coming up?” Riz scrambles for words. His brains feels thick and his thoughts escape him. He hates this, hates how incapable he becomes around Fabian. 

Fabian shrugs, seemingly unbothered. 

“Sure. If you two are hanging out I’ll see if Gorgug is around instead,” Fabian says. Riz instantly feels panic settle in. That wasn’t a threat, but it definitely feels like one. He imagines Fabian sharing a bottle of whatever he finds with Gorgug, laughing with him, leading him towards his bed-

“No!” Riz cries out, unable to help himself. Fig stops, mid sentence. Adaine, Fig and Fabian all stare at Riz like he’s a wild animal that’s just broken loose from it’s cage. He clears his throat, “I mean, uh, I think Gorgug’s tied up this weekend. Hey, Adaine, how about we make it a lunch thing and then I’ll catch Fabian afterwards?” 

Adaine shrugs and nods. Riz tries to slow his heartbeat by gripping the handle of his briefcase beneath the table. He hates himself, he hates himself, he hates himself. 

-

“Are you okay?” Adaine asks. Riz looks up. He hadn’t noticed that he had been incessantly tapping his pen against the table. He blinks a few times, grounding himself. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

It’s Saturday, and he isn’t fine, but Adaine doesn’t press any further. He sort of wishes she would. He’s ready to spill everything to the first person that asks. But no one ever does, and he’s starting to suspect that it’s unlikely that anyone ever will. Who is he keeping this secret for? The answer, of course, is Fabian. And if it’s for Fabian, Riz will have to learn to like the taste of self destruction. 

-

“By the way,” Fabian says. They’re in his bedroom- of course they are. Books lie scattered on the floor around them, their study session quickly abandoned due to Fabian’s lack of any attention span. It had quickly dissolved into playing a stupid betting game, which Fabian, of course, had won. Fabian pulls out a bottle from beneath a pillow and gives it a little shake with a grin. Riz feels his smile slip away. “I found this in a hamper downstairs.”

Fabian offers the bottle to Riz, who feels himself retract. Fabian instantly pulls the bottle back towards himself. 

“Don’t want any? Your loss,” Fabian says, and starts unscrewing the cap. 

“Wait,” Riz says, his mouth working before his mind, “Could we maybe- could we have one time where you don’t do… that?” 

Fabian looks wounded, “Am I doing something wrong?” 

“No!” Yes, “It’s just, I thought you didn’t like it when your mom drank, that’s all.” 

Fabian snorts, “When she does it, sure. But I’m not my mother.”

Riz wonders if Fabian realises just how similar he is to Hallariel. The way that they can both draw a person in, impress them, and then cut them down. How unaware they can both be of the people around them. Their addictive personalities. 

Fabian looks at the bottle in his hand, and then at Riz. His eye is dark for a moment, and Riz can almost see Fabian working something out in his head. And then, suddenly, Fabian speaks up. 

“I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I, The Ball?” Fabian asks, and his voice is low and gentle in a way that Riz never gets to hear. Fabian has a funny way of doing that- of never seeming to care, and then suddenly saying something that Riz will repeat in his mind for weeks to come. 

“No,” Riz manages to choke out, “You could never make me uncomfortable.”

This seems to be the wrong answer, as Fabian takes it as a green light to flick the lid off the bottle and start gulping it’s contents down. Riz wonders why he isn’t enough. Why his company, sober, never seems to satisfy Fabian. Riz has been here before, needing someone more than they need him. Liking someone more. Loving someone more. Sometimes Riz can convince himself that he and Fabian are on the same page, and then something like this happens. Fabian only really likes him when he’s intoxicated. 

There’s a lull as Fabian methodically sips at his drink, one gulp or so every few minutes. Riz looks around the room, avoiding eye contact. He wants some part of sober Fabian to latch onto. His eyes finally find their way to a picture of Bill Seacaster with his arm around Fabian at some fencing tournament. There’s a sparkle in Fabian’s eyes that he hasn’t seen in a while. Since the end of freshman year, there’s been something off-canter about Fabian. It’s as though a light inside of him has been dampened. 

Suddenly the frame is being placed face down. Riz is torn from his thoughts as he looks up at Fabian, who is staring at him with an unfamiliar intensity. 

“I don’t look good in that photo,” Fabian says, his voice both guarded and thickened with alcohol. 

“Sure,” Riz says, feeling like he’s been caught cheating on a test, but he can’t place why. 

There’s another heavy silence that makes Riz squirm, and once again, he starts running his mouth before he can think of the consequences. 

“Hey Fabian?” He asks, his voice higher than usual. 

“Mmm?” 

“What do you like about me?” Riz asks. 

Fabian pauses. He looks at Riz, and then at the ceiling, and smiles. 

“You don’t have to answer that,” Riz backtracks, “I was just wondering why you keep me around.” 

“Keep you around?” Fabian sounds amused, “Do you think so little of me that you think I would simply ‘keep you around’?” 

Riz can feel panic rise up into his throat and sit there. 

“No, actually, I,” Riz stammers, as Fabian starts to make his way over to him. Fabian reeks of wine, “I actually- I think quite a lot about you. Of you. Sorry, I meant to say that I think quite a lot _ of _you.” 

“How flattering,” Fabian says, and sits himself down in front of Riz, dangerously close, “Shall I tell you why I like you?” 

Riz nods, and Fabian leans in so that his mouth is next to Riz’s ear, “I like that you’re always the first one with a plan, and it’s always the right plan.” 

Fabian’s breath is hot against Riz’s skin. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“I like that you’re smart. I like that you care what people think and you don’t care what people think at the same time. I care so fucking much. I care what you think about me, did you know that? I like when you watch me. I like the fact that you like me. I can tell, Riz Gukgak.”

Riz feels his entire body tense up. Fabian doesn’t move, frozen so that Riz can’t see his face, can’t tell if he’s joking. 

“I like you, Riz,” Fabian says, finally drawing back, and he looks so fucking earnest it hurts, “I think I might love you, Riz Gukgak.” 

Riz stares at Fabian. He’ll admit that he’s thought about Fabian telling him that he loves him. Riz wouldn’t say that he’s any sort of romantic, but he’s always imagined it a little better than this. A little kinder. A little gentler. And a whole lot more fucking sober. 

“No,” Riz says, and suddenly he’s pushing down the urge to cry, because this is all wrong, “No, Fabian. Don’t tell me that. Not like this.” 

Fabian looks confused, “Not like what? Aren’t you happy? Don’t you like me?” 

And Riz, once again, hates himself, as he feels himself unable to stop tears from forming and rolling down his cheeks. How fucking humiliating, he suddenly thinks. He hates crying in front of people. He especially hates crying in front of Fabian. Fabian looks at him with sympathy and it makes the whole thing so much fucking worse. 

“I do. And that’s the problem. If you tell me that you love me like this, when you’re piss-drunk, out of your goddamn mind, you’re going to forget all of this. And I’m going to have to live with it. I’m going to have to walk around every day knowing that you told me you love me and you’re not going to remember one goddamned fucking moment of this whole shitty ordeal,” Riz can feel himself rambling, his voice shaking, unable to stop, “God, this whole situation is so fucked.”

Riz starts to laugh. It’s cold and humourless and this whole thing is frankly ridiculous. Fabian Aramais Seacaster, loving Riz Gukgak. Sure, okay. Likely story. This whole thing feels like a set up, a horrible, cruel, practical joke. The worst part is that Riz had begun to fool himself too. 

Fabian stares at him, eye wide. He blinks a few times, and then leans forward to kiss Riz. Riz doesn’t process what he does, he just does it, and suddenly he’s pushed Fabian back with a force he didn’t realise he was capable of. Fabian slams back into his dresser and there’s a horrible _ crack. _Fabian and Riz stare at each other. Slowly, Fabian raises his hand to the back of his head, and when he pulls it away his fingers are stained with red. Neither of them say a word. 

“I’ll get Cathilda,” Riz whispers, and stands up. 

“Riz, wait,” Fabian says, and tries to stand up, but doesn’t quite make it and clumsily slips back down in a drunken stupor. The dresser is marked with a horrible splash of red. Riz can’t bear to be in the room any longer. He has to get out, get away. This whole evening was a mistake. 

Riz hastily grabs his books and crams them into his briefcase before walking out. He passes Cathilda in the hallway. 

“Fabian tripped,” He says, “He might need some medical assistance.” 

Riz leaves. 

-

Riz doesn’t see Fabian at school that week. Maybe it’s because they narrowly miss each other, or maybe it’s because Riz stealths down each hallway and dodges out of the way anytime he sees a hint of Fabian. Fabian catches him, one time. He looks weary and there are dark circles under his eyepatch and eye that Riz has never seen before, he didn’t even know Fabian was _ capable _of forming them, and his usually pristine jacket is crumpled. 

“Hey, The Ball, can we talk?” Fabian says, his voice hoarse. 

Riz feels like a coward as he mumbles through an excuse about being late for class and darts away, leaving Fabian stranded in the middle of the hallway. 

Adaine, however, doesn’t let him get off lightly. She corners Riz, literally corners him so there’s no chance of an escape that doesn’t involve inflicting some bodily harm on Adaine, and stares down at him. 

“Is there something going on between you and Fabian?” She demands, and when Riz starts to splutter incredulously, shakes her head, “No, actually, let me rephrase that. I know there’s something going on between you and Fabian. Why are you avoiding him?” 

Riz’s heart stops racing somewhat as he realises that the _ something _that Adaine is referring to has nothing to do with secret, drunken makeout sessions at Fabian’s house every Saturday. 

“I’m not avoiding him,” Riz says weakly, unconvincing even to his own ears. Adaine narrows her eyes. “Okay, I’m avoiding him. And I’m really sorry, but I can’t tell you why right now. But I’ll talk to him. Soon. I promise.” 

Adaine looks at him, stares at him with an intensity that says _ I’m going to hold you to that _, and then she slips away. Riz exhales. Fuck. Of course he knew that he couldn’t avoid a member of his own adventuring party forever, but still. Fuck. 

-

Riz finally seeks out Fabian in the school’s locker rooms three days later. Riz doesn’t mean to sneak up on Fabian, but it’s a force of habit that causes Fabian to jump when Riz makes himself known. 

“_ The Ball _,” Fabian says, and he raises his arms to cover his chest somewhat self-consciously. This is ridiculous, Riz thinks, but Fabian still shifts uncomfortable under Riz’s gaze when Riz’s eyes trace a long scar that goes from Fabian’s shoulder to halfway down his stomach. He doesn’t remember when Fabian got that. He’s never heard or seen Fabian mention it. 

“Fabian, hi,” Riz manages, his voice barely above a whisper. He clears his throat, “I, uh, hi.”

Fabian looks Riz up and down like he’s an anomaly. Riz doesn’t know where to go from here. He hasn’t planned any of this. 

“Hi,” Fabian says, and suddenly Riz zeros in on how Fabian’s hair is tousled, but not just because of football practice. Fabian’s eye is bloodshot and he reeks of something familiar and sour. 

“Jesus christ, Fabian,” Riz says, “are you drunk right now?” 

Fabian doesn’t say anything, just stares back at Riz. 

“Oh my god, are you fucking kidding me?” Riz says, feeling heat rise from the pit of his stomach to his throat, and words spill out, burning his tongue, “You’re drunk? At school?” 

Fabian looks like a wounded puppy, but Riz feels no sympathy. 

“I don’t care if you fuck me over, but you can’t- coming to school like this is going to fuck up the rest of our party, you know that? Do you ever think of anyone else but yourself? What is _ wrong _with you?” Riz demands. Maybe he’s being too harsh, and maybe he’s not being harsh enough. He doesn’t know. 

“I don’t know, Riz,” Fabian says weakly, “I don’t know what you want from me.” 

“_ Bullshit _,” Riz says, “I want you to have the decency to at least leave getting drunk and messing with the people around you at home. I mean, what were you planning on doing? Flunking lessons? Telling everyone around you that you love them?” 

There is a flash of recognition in Fabian’s eye, that is quickly hidden, but it’s too late. Riz has noticed. 

“Oh my god,” Riz says, “You remember.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fabian says, voice flat. 

“Take a wild guess,” Riz says, and somehow all the anger leaves his body all at once, and all he feels is empty, and this is so much worse than being angry, and all he can say is, “I wish you would try. Just once. I wish you would try for me.” 

He doesn’t really know what he means, but it seems to briefly register with Fabian, and then vanish. They stare at each other, and then Riz turns on his heel and leaves, breathing hard. 

-

Riz is becoming a master of ignoring Fabian and not ignoring him all at once. Under Adaine’s watchful eyes Riz eats lunch at the same table as Fabian but doesn’t talk to him. He responds curtly to messages he receives from Fabian on his crystal but doesn’t answer calls. He lets Fabian copy his homework but never offers to help. Fabian smells more and more of alcohol each day. He’s surprised Fabian hasn’t been kicked out of school yet. Then again, he’s just about managed to catch glimpses of Jawbone stopping Fabian in the hallway to pull him into his office. At least someone is dealing with the situation, whatever that situation may be.

Adaine glares at Riz. Riz doesn’t know why she’s targeting him. Where is the anger at Fabian? Fabian is the one creating the tension. If he could just get a grip, maybe put someone else other than himself first, none of this would be an issue. The rest of the Bad Kidz are doing a bad job of pretending not to notice Fabian’s inebriated state, and it’s putting a strain on their friendship. Nobody knows what to do, and Adaine seems to think that somehow Riz can magically fix this. He wishes he could magically fix this, but there’s also a cloud of anger, stronger than anything he’s felt before. Riz is self-aware, that on some level, he is being a dick. But so is Fabian. It’s like they’re stray dogs facing off, teeth bared, both being unwilling to be the first to back down. 

It comes to a head during an Owlbears game. 

In all honesty, Riz had planned to skip the match. He has no interest in sports, least of all when the captain is Fabian. At least, that’s what he tells himself. But inevitably, Adaine drags him along, lecturing Riz about being supportive. So Riz sits in the bleachers, and tries not to watch Fabian. 

It’s nearing the end of the match when it happens. Riz doesn’t really see it happen. He’s let his mind drift when suddenly the crowd around him make a noise of both shock and sympathy, and they all stand up, craning their necks to get a good look at a hunched over figure on the playing field. There is someone curled up on the pitch, covered in something red, covered in blood, as people begin chants of foul play. Riz doesn’t want to look, but he has to. 

It’s Fabian. 

Riz doesn’t feel himself get up, doesn’t feel himself running, but suddenly he is. He’s weaving between people, pushing people aside. He has to get to that pitch. His lungs burn as he nears the field, leaps from the bleachers and takes off running towards Fabian. He hears someone yelling at him, but it’s all white noise. 

Fabian is still hunched up, but from up close Riz can see his body heaving. This wasn’t just a tackle, Riz notices, this was something darker. He looks up and sees a member of the opposing team being berated by the referee. Panic swells in Riz’s stomach, but he swallows it down. 

“Fabian?” Riz shakes his shoulder. A medic rushes over and sits on the other side of Fabian, assessing the situation. 

“Fabian. Hey. Fabian,” Riz persists. He knows that in some way he’s making the situation worse, but he needs to know that Fabian is okay.

Fabian is gently rolled over onto his back. His eye is glassy and there’s a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth. Fabian’s shirt is damp and red and Riz doesn’t know what’s happened, doesn’t know where all of this _ blood _is coming from, and he thought he could live without Fabian, thought he could ignore him into nonexistence, but suddenly the thought of losing him is the most terrifying thing Riz can imagine. 

Fabian blinks, and looks over at Riz. 

“Hey,” Fabian says, voice hoarse, “You’re talking to me.” 

Fabian cracks a small smile, and Riz experiences waves of anger and relief and everything in between in the space of six seconds. A bubble of laughter creeps up into Riz’s throat. 

“You _ idiot, _” Riz says, and he’s a hypocrite, because what he’s about to do is so incredibly idiotic. Fabian is going to kill him for this, but there’s something about the release of tension and the feeling of grass on his knees and the heat beating down from the floodlights that makes Riz lean forward, take Fabian’s face in both hands and kiss him. Riz is faintly aware of how many people must be watching, but in that moment, there’s only Fabian and his lips and that stupidly perfect jaw and the taste of copper. 

Riz withdraws, and looks down at Fabian, who stares back up at him. 

“Wow,” Fabian says, “My kisses are that irresistible?”

Riz hates this. And loves this. And musters just enough of a lack of self-respect to kiss Fabian again. 

-

Fabian disappears from school for a few days. Riz pretends not to notice, to be completely nonchalant, but by Friday his fingers are raw from biting at his nails. He travels back to his office that night, his heart tight in his chest. He sits in the quiet, focusing on the dim hum of the lights and all of his investigative notes in front of him. He tries to focus on a few of them, but the words swim around in front of his eyes. He jumps when there is a knock on his door. He wonders who it could be, and knows exactly who it must be all at once. He freezes, takes a moment, and then goes to the door. 

Of course, there is Fabian at the door. Dishevelled, but not in a way that Riz recognises. There’s a slight wild look in his eye, and there’s exhaustion, and there, above it all, is sobriety. Fabian smells of washing powder and shampoo and not much else. 

“Hi,” Fabian says, out of breath. He must have run over, but Riz can’t seem to find a reason why he’d do that. 

“Hi,” Riz replies tentatively. There’s a beat of silence as neither of them know what to do. 

“You can come in, if you want,” Riz says, but Fabian doesn’t seem to process the offer. 

“Riz,” Fabian says suddenly, and the sound of his own name, his name unslurred from Fabian’s mouth, jolts Riz slightly, “Riz, this is me trying. I’m trying. For you.” 

“Fabian,” Riz says carefully, “What do you remember?”

“Not much,” Fabian says, and then, “But enough. And I think I said that I love you. And I think that’s true. I don’t know. But I want to try. If you’ll let me.” 

Riz doesn’t need time to think, he’s an autopilot when he says, “I’ll let you, Fabian Seacaster.”

And suddenly, Fabian has pulled Riz towards him, and they’re kissing and it’s so familiar and unfamiliar all at once, and Riz thinks _ oh, I could get used to this _.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I write overly cliched fics... to cope.


End file.
